‘Tonight?’ she said, in a dry whisper.
‘His Highness has expressed his wish to entertain you tonight.’
‘Me? But he won’t even remember me!’
Shiva Steiner smiled, dead eyed. ‘My dear Sarah, you do not suppose that we have gone to all this trouble and expense without first being sure of at least the basic details? Your last remark suggests, I hope, merely a degree of modesty on your part? Not, I trust, a sudden lack of self-confidence?’
He leaned forward to touch her knee, but she flinched away. ‘You have nothing to fear. His Highness has also expressed to me, personally, that he found you a most agreeable and attractive person.’
‘Nothing to fear!’ she repeated, and glanced again through the rear window: the car was there, waiting, 100 yards behind. ‘And what about those Security people? You’re really telling me that they’re following us just in case we’re attacked by a few beggars?’ She was sitting forward, her fingernails digging into the deep leather seat.
‘Calm yourself, my dear.’ Steiner had not even bothered to follow her glance back through the window. ‘We have come so far — you really must trust me.’
Again she remembered Mrs Braintree’s words on the Embassy stairs — ‘Get out while you’ve still got your skin!’
She opened her mouth to speak, then shut it again. She looked out at the troops. A few of them were looking back at the car. ‘Shouldn’t we be going?’
‘You in a hurry?’
‘But won’t they recognize us — recognize me?’
Steiner’s, voice was as caressing as ever. ‘They cannot see in through the windows. Even if they could, they are only soldiers. Why should they be interested in you, except to dream about you at night?’ He gave a guttural order to the driver, who started the engine.
She watched as they passed the stationary grey car on the other side of the street. It pulled out and did a swift U-turn a moment later. The Fleetwood was driving deliberately slowly. Two hundred yards from the entrance to the square Steiner murmured something and the driver almost stopped.
Without looking at her, Shiva Steiner pointed towards a narrow side street leading between two tall concrete buildings.
‘That is Passam Street,’ he said. She peered over his shoulder and saw the name on a plaque in Arabic and Roman script. ‘Your friend, Captain Packer, will be waiting for you at the corner from midnight tonight.’ He added something to the driver and the car speeded up.
Sarah sank back into her corner, and for several minutes they drove again in silence.
‘Sarah, it is time I explained to you the final, and perhaps the most important, detail of this whole operation. It concerns the method by which His Highness will die.’ He paused. ‘When you first agreed to this plan, did Charles Pol ever discuss this aspect of the affair with you?’
‘Not exactly.’ She was trying to control her breathing and found it hard to speak. ‘He promised me that there wouldn’t be any blood. That’s all he said.’ She was very frightened.
Steiner nodded. ‘Monsieur Pol was quite correct. We have all agreed that you should be spared any unnecessary unpleasantness. Fortunately, there are new techniques which are both simple and highly effective.’
Her voice was a whisper. ‘Poison?’
‘In a manner of speaking, yes. However, we cannot risk having you offer His Highness something to eat or drink. He follows the ancient tradition here of employing a taster at all times of the day and night. So we have decided on an anal suppository.’
She swallowed hard, saying nothing.
‘It is an almost universal practice among the French,’ Steiner went on, ‘for taking most common medicines, including aspirins and sedatives. But for some reason the Anglo-Saxons — including the Americans — find it disgusting, despite the fact that, as a method, it works much faster.’
‘You want me to stick it up his arse, you mean?’
‘Precisely.’ Shiva Steiner sounded relieved. ‘You must merely think of yourself as a nurse, or even a woman doctor. They have to perform far more disagreeable tasks every day of their working lives.’
‘I’m not a nurse or a doctor!’
‘No. But not even the most famous doctor in the world could command a fee a fraction as great as that which you are being paid for tonight’s work.’
Sarah closed her eyes, as Steiner’s soothing voice continued. ‘The only real skill you will have to employ will be in the matter of timing. Like most experienced men of his age, the Ruler often enjoys diversions from the usual sexual play. But I have no doubt that you will handle this aspect of the situation correctly. Whatever His Highness suggests, it is essential that you neither resist nor show the least reluctance. If you do, he will merely throw you out. And that would be a pity. A pity for us all.’
Sarah still said nothing. After a few minutes, Steiner’s voice reached her again, full of cajoling reassurance. ‘There is one thing I should add, my dear. You will be given two of these suppositories. The poison belongs to the same group as cyanide and acts very quickly. He will be dead within thirty seconds. Before that there may be violent spasms, but even if he is lying on top of you he will not be able to hurt you, nor will he be able to make any sound. He will be unconscious almost at once.’
‘What is the second one for?’ she asked.
‘It is merely a reserve — in cast you drop or mislay the first one. Of course,’ he went on gently, ‘if something were to go seriously wrong, and you were to be apprehended, you could always use it on yourself.’
She shrank back into her corner again and watched the palm-shaded villas sliding
